Like a Shadow
by forestwife
Summary: Because of his failure, Lisa Reisert had a lot of enemies. She had a price on her head, destined to be hunted down by assassins for the rest of her life... But also because of him, she’d never noticed. Please R&R!


Disclaimer: I don't own anything Red Eye related.

Summary: Because of his failure, Lisa Reisert had a lot of enemies. She had a price on her head, destined to be hunted down by assassins for the rest of her life... But also because of him, she'd never noticed.

Warnings: swearing, murder, torture and mentions of rape.

Like a Shadow

_"No,"__ a gravelly voice barked, "I don't care who you get to do it, or how. But I want the __Reisert__ girl dead. Do you understand?"_

_"Y-Yes, Sir.__ I'll get someone on it right away!"_

_"Good. And have someone take care of __Rippner__ too. I don't want any loose ends."_

Then the connection cut off, the conversation finished.

Jackson Rippner took off his headphones, suddenly grateful that he'd taken precautions and bugged his now ex-employer's phone so long ago.

He ran a hand through his dark hair. So there was a contract out on him, and Lisa too. Well, he couldn't say he was surprised, he'd been expecting it for some time now.

He picked up his sports bag with his essentials in it, always ready for situations like this, picked up his even more essential 9mm and tucked his KA BAR into it's sheath. Then he left his apartment for the last time, never looking back.

If his boss wanted to play it this way then so be it.

So it began.

----------------------------------------------------

The first attempt on Lisa's life happened in broad daylight, in a parking lot, just as her rape had been.

Just the thought of how much this bastard's attack, however coincidental, emulated the most painful incident in Lisa's life made Jackson see red. He ground his teeth together and clenched his fists so tight that he almost drew blood from his palms.

Silently as a shadow, he stalked after the man who was stalking Lisa. She was _his_ damnit, and she was going to stay that way. No one was going to mess with her while he was around.

Lisa, oblivious to the two men following her, continued on her way through the parking lot, casually getting out her keys from her handbag. She fumbled with them, dropping them on the tarmac, and Jackson knew that this was just the kind of opportunity that the assassin would take advantage of.

Sure enough, he saw the glint of the sunlight shining off a metallic blade as the man drew out a wicked looking knife, one that could easily cause irreparable damage to Lisa. Jackson's lip curled in disgust as he drew his own knife ready.

The man was at the edge of the alley now, peering round the corner of the building and into the parking lot, at Lisa.

Not willing to give this man a second chance, Jackson crept up behind him. Swiftly and expertly he put a hand over the man's mouth and slashed his knife across his throat. The assassin dropped his own knife and clutched his hands feebly to his throat as his life's blood splattered down on the tarmac. But his attempt to save himself was in vain, there was no coming back from a slit throat.

Jackson lowered the dead man to the ground and cleaned his knife on the guy's jacket. He looked at the ex-assassin's lifeless eyes and muttered without remorse, "You always did underestimate me."

As Jackson stood in the shadow of the building, Lisa proceeded to get in her car and drive away, none the wiser that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

----------------------------------------------------

It wasn't even two days later that Jackson, watching the news, saw the image of his own apartment, the one he had only left about a week previously. And it looked as if it had had a visit from one of his less welcome 'friends' since he'd been gone.

High flames were consuming the entire building, but Jackson watched without emotion. He'd been expecting something like this. The fire hadn't been an attempt to kill him, they'd known he wouldn't be there anymore. It was a message, a message to tell him that they wanted him dead, that they would find him, so to start running.

"Predictable," Jackson murmured, the firelight from the screen reflected in his emotionless ice blue eyes. "No imagination whatsoever."

-----------------------------------------------------

The second attempt on Lisa'a life was a big contrast on the first. It took place in the dead of night at her apartment.

Jackson knew the place well, after all he'd been watching it for months before he even _met_ Lisa face to face. So that night when he arrived, he knew something was up. It wasn't anything he could see, it wasn't anything he could hear, it was just a feeling he had... a gut instinct, and his instincts had never led him wrong so far.

Sure enough as he covertly surveyed the area, he spotted the problem. In the window of the ground floor apartment opposite Lisa's in the block across the street, there was a man stood at the window. He was wearing dark clothes and had the lights off so he was hard to spot. But he was there, and he had a sniper rifle.

Within a split second, Jackson was on the move towards the building. He knew what he had to do now. There was no use trying to knock down the door, as soon as he succeeded then whoever was on the other side of the door would be on him. And while Jackson knew he was no lightweight in a fight, he was sure that with whoever his opponent was, he wouldn't have the strength advantage. He had to have the element of surprise.

He rang the doorbell, standing to one side so as not be seen through the peephole. No one answered the door.

Persistently, Jackson rang the doorbell again, again, and again.

Finally, an annoyed voice called, "Alright, alright already! I'm coming!" Evidently the sniper had gotten fed up of the constant ringing and was going to try the innocent, "I live here!" act. Smirking, Jackson stood to the side of the door, his gun at the ready.

The guy opened the door, "Alright! What the _fuck_do—" he stopped, seeing no one there.

Jackson took immediately advantage of this, stepping in front of the man and slamming his gun into his head, knocking him out cold. He looked at the man with apparent disinterest, and dragged him inside.

By the time the would-be assassin regained consciousness, Jackson had securely tied him to a chair. The man strained at his bonds for a moment, but when they didn't give at all, he gave up, understanding that unless Rippner let him loose, he was going nowhere.

"Why're you doing this, Rippner?" he asked, "You could've saved your own skin, y'know. Why're you throwing it all away to protect this bitch?"

The only response the man received was a swift punch across the face.

"Still the same lack of sense of humour I see, Jack," he said with a grimace, spitting blood on the floor. "Still, found yourself a hobby, haven't you?"

"Well, you know what they say," Jackson replied with a cold smirk, crouching down in front of the man "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Then straightening up, his voice cold and level, Jackson asked, "How many more has he sent after Lisa Reisert?"

"How many more?" the assassin repeated, incredulous, "Haven't you heard, _Jack_? They'll send as many as it takes."

"Who's the next one then, Turner?" he asked, casually cleaning the blood off his knuckles.

"You're really serious about this aren't you, Rippner?" Turner said, "You could have any girl you wanted if you needed a fuck, why the hell is this one so important? God, you're acting like you're her fucking bodyguard!"

"Turner, who's the next one?" Jackson asked again, his voice harder than steel now.

The assassin said nothing, but again spat the blood from his mouth onto the floor.

Crouching down again, Jackson said in a creepily calm voice, "Turner, you have a decision to make. Because you see, you _will_ tell me what I want to know, it's just a matter of whether you'll tell me _now_ or later." His eyes glittered with malice, not a shred of compassion there for the man who had come here with the intent of killing Lisa. "So," he said, standing up, "Do you want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

It took seven broken fingers, a broken nose, bullets to the kneecaps and a shattered wrist before Jackson got the name out of Turner. He looked down at the body of the now-dead and broken man. Fortunately, Jackson knew of Traven, the next who was to come after Lisa, so he knew how he worked. He would follow Lisa around and wait for his moment, he wouldn't try to kill her in her own home.

Just then, a phone began to ring, and it was coming from Turner. Searching the man's pockets, Jackson drew out the phone and accepted the call. Instantly a voice on the other end said, "_Well, __Turner,__ is it done? Has the girl been taken care of?"_

"This is Rippner," Jackson replied coldly, "I just put down one of your dogs. Send any more and they will end up the same way, understand?" Then, without waiting for an answer he hung up. He swiftly left the apartment, tucking his gun away. Now they knew that Turner was dead, a cleanup team would shortly arrive and take care of the body. One good thing about killing assassins from the company was that most of the time he didn't have to worry about dealing with the aftermath, like cleaning up or being arrested for murder. The organisation would never want to be connected to something like that.

------------------------------------------------------

A week later, and Jackson was still following Lisa, but there had been no more signs of any more hits on her. He didn't dare to hope they'd given up though, it was far too soon for that. This was just a gap to lull him into a false sense of security, he was sure of it.

Sure enough, one night Lisa actually went out to a bar. She only went to meet Cynthia of all people, but still, she was getting a life. Jackson was almost proud of her- until he saw how she planned on getting home...

"C'mon Leese," Jackson muttered to himself, "You're not doing anything to make my life easier. Walking through a dark alley? You're signing your own fucking death warrant!"

He'd been hanging back from her a bit, trying to give her a little space so as not to arouse her suspicions, but when he saw another shadow in the alley, Jackson knew that this was it, Traven had seen his opportunity and he was going for it.

Jackson knew he was going to have to be careful about how he did this. Traven was many things: cocky, arrogant, sadistic, but he was not stupid. Also, if someone was going to have the strength advantage between the two, then Traven had it in spades. Getting out his gun and screwing the silencer to the end, Jackson realised he was going have to rely on shooting the bastard before getting beaten to a pulp himself, or sliced and diced... he wasn't sure of Traven's preferred killing methods these days.

Now despite what he had told Lisa, Jackson wasn't completely lousy with a gun. He was nowhere near good enough to be a professional sniper, but he was still a pretty decent shot.

He crept closer to Traven, aware that he'd have to get fairly close before shooting the guy, otherwise when Lisa heard the body fall, the whole game'd be up. Unfortunately though, this only made the whole situation more difficult.

Fortunately though, while Traven had been blessed with brains, unlike most of the low level lackies, he hadn't been blessed with particularly good hearing, or an awareness of his surroundings. So when Jackson shot three bullets into him, effectively ending his life, he never even knew what hit him.

Part one of the plan, killing Traven before getting killed himself had gone off without a hitch. Part two however, catching him, was another matter... Before Jackson could grab the body, it began to fall and knocked into a garbage can...

As the garbage can hit the ground and rolled out of sight round the corner, Jackson was suddenly very grateful for the bend in the alley. He stood as still as possible, listening. He could almost sense Lisa turning to see what had happened, her paranoia returning. So Jackson waited, his back literally against the wall, holding the corpse of the assassin he'd just killed, barely daring to breathe for fear of being heard.

His usual cool, calm composure was broken by his almost overwhelming fear that Lisa would somehow know he was there and come and confront him. He didn't want to have it all with her right here in an alley. He didn't want to have to try to explain everything about why he was doing this. He wasn't even sure if he _could_ explain why. He sure as hell couldn't explain it to himself.

Fortunately, after a tense moment, Jackson heard Lisa start walking away down the alley. He let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding and looked down at the body he was holding. Some of the blood from Traven's bullet wounds had soaked into his suit.

"Shit!" Jackson said, lowering the corpse to the ground. It was a fact that blood stained, and this was one of his best suits as well. "The things I do for you, Leese," he muttered, looking at the crimson stain with annoyance and disgust.

-----------------------------------------------------

Another few weeks later, after the most recent attempt on Lisa's life, Jackson was really wishing they would just give up and go away already. Having to deal with all the goons who were coming after him _and_ Lisa were really starting to grate on his nerves, and it wasn't really conducive to good health either. He had so many bruises and scrapes that he couldn't even count them, not to mention the numerous minor slashes he'd gotten from knives, or the fact that the lack of sleep or proper food meant that he was hardly at his best.

In fact, he thought that the luck which had carried him this far was beginning to run out. In this most recent incident, there had been _two_ assassins working together, and as he'd dealt with one, the other had shot him. Fortunately, it seemed that the man who'd shot him was really a knife man, and therefore an even worse shot than he was, so the bullet had only scraped his side. But still, it wasn't as minor as any of the other wounds he'd picked up to date.

He glanced back at the man responsible for wounding him. The guy lay on his back, eyes staring vacantly at the starry sky, all life taken from them by the bullet in his brain. One thing that Jackson _was_ glad about was his decision to give up on wearing his suits for now. He'd taken to wearing casual clothes instead due to the large number of his suits that were being ruined, and the fact that he was rather partial to said suits.

Somehow, thinking about how he must look, scruffy, tired and covered in blood, Jackson wondered if he even had to worry about Lisa spotting him. He didn't think that anyone would recognise him now as Jackson Rippner, manager of high profile assassinations... He didn't want to know _what_ he looked like.

Jackson looked through the window from across the street. Lisa was making her customary 3am scrambled eggs and hadn't noticed that anything was amiss, much less that there'd been a gunfight right outside her apartment. Then he looked down at where his hand was clutched to his side, blood oozing between his fingers. He grimaced in pain, surveying the damage. Unfortunately it was bad enough that he'd have to get someone a little more professional than himself to patch up the wound.

He glanced back at Lisa. There wouldn't be another attack on her tonight, of that he was certain. And he did still know a doctor he could trust to fix him up if he made it worth his while. He had enough time to get there and back again by morning when the dance would start again.

Jackson knew that eventually his ex-employers might give up on Lisa if he kept this up for long enough, but he also knew that they would never give up on _him_ until he was six feet under. They might have done if he'd just let them kill Lisa, but after the amount of their men he'd killed recently, there was no way they were letting him get away with that.

But then looking at his still bleeding bullet wound, Jackson thought that this job he'd taken on himself would kill him long before that time anyway. It was worth it though, he thought, watching Lisa as she went about her routine. This way she'd never have to know about the peril she was in every single day.

He was still a cold-hearted killer, there was no changing that and there never would be. But Jackson had never before thought he was doing something worthwhile when he killed. This time he wasn't killing to destroy, he was killing to protect. And protecting Lisa was worth everything... even his own life.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: So, what did you think? Crap or not?

I'd really appreciate some feedback as this is my first attempt at a Red Eye fic, and I had been planning another one... So please tell me now whether I should, or whether I should accept the fact that I can't write Red Eye... I dunno.

Anyway, cyber cookies will be awarded to all review givers, however short they are!


End file.
